


The Angel Do So to Me

by AgatheAlmond



Category: The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Alicante (Shadowhunter Chronicles), Character Death, Dark War, Death, Endarkened - Freeform, F/M, Idris (Shadowhunter Chronicles), Mortal War, Original Character(s), Parabatai Bond, Parabatai Feels, Self-Harm, Suicide, The Clave (Shadowhunter Chronicles), The Dark War, War, shadowhunter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:40:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27546241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgatheAlmond/pseuds/AgatheAlmond
Summary: WARNING: if you read the books you may already know this but it needs to be said nonetheless -- this work will deal with self-harm and suicide. If that's a trigger for you, please do not read this.."Sebastian Morgernstern has been forcing shadowhunters all over the world to drink from the infernal cup. Edward Longford and his parabatai, Arianne Dragonnoir, should have left their institute when there was still time.".From that one quote that intrigued me enough to think this up: “That is mercy. That is what Edward Longford gave his parabatai, before he turned his sword on himself. That is why I paid my respects to him.”
Relationships: Edward Longford/Arianne Dragonnoir, Edward Longford/His parabatai
Kudos: 1





	The Angel Do So to Me

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: if you read the books you may already know this but it needs to be said nonetheless -- this work will deal with self-harm and suicide. If that's a trigger for you, please do not read this. 
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I own nothing of this work as it is derived from the beautifully amazing world of Cassandra Clare and the entire Shadowhunter Chronicles universe.

Arianne’s blessed knife flew from her hand towards the vampire and plunged itself into his chest missing the heart merely by a few inches. He let out a painful and raging screech as he fell on his knees, smoke erupting from his wound. The vampire seethed in pain, his eyes staring murderously at her, as he grabbed the hilt of the dagger with his hand. It burned, blistered, but his anger seemed to erase any trace of the excruciating pain he was supposed to feel. She reached for the sword hung on her back, but her hand clenched nothing. Her eyes widened as the vampire successfully tore the blade out of his chest. She expected him to throw it at her, but instead, he threw it at the gigantic skylight above her.

Shards of glass rained down on Arianne as she slid under the bar for cover, the cutting rain reverberating the flashing lights of the otherwise completely dark club. She turned around, stomach on the ground, her hair undone and her eyes darting from one place to another searching for the rogue vampire hiding in the shadows. She could hear the noise of boots on glass but could not catch a glimpse of the Downworlder waiting to sink his teeth in her neck. She could hear her blood pulsing through her veins, feel her heart pounding in her chest, but not sense her partner.

She grabbed her stele and drew soundless, agility and night vision runes quickly. As she observed the now seemingly moonlit room, it was still impossible for her to spot her attacker. She was about to come out, when something crashed on the counter above her and a blade sliced through it. She yelped as she rolled to the side, gazing upon the named Seraph Blade in horror.

Suddenly, a head popped upside down from the top of the counter, looking where she had been hidden. It was Edward, lying flat on the bar to see her better.

“Arianne! It’s not like you to hide.” He smiled. She furrowed her eyebrows.

“Shut up, where have you been? You could— “

Eddie expected her to go full on Mad Ari, but she did not finish her sentence, and instead extended both her arms towards him.

“Ed, your arms!”

He did not see what she saw, but he felt it the moment her eyes had left his to meet whatever was behind him. He did not lose time looking up. He brought his two hands under the bar, grabbed her arms, and pulled. She slid from under there and gave herself a push, jumping in the air before her legs crashed against the vampire’s chest, throwing him across the room. She back-flipped above Ed and gracefully landed on the bar counter right behind him and grabbed a Seraph blade from his weapon’s belt.

“I told you, you didn’t pack enough!” he smirked.

“Shut up,” she said with a French accent, and whispered a name to her blade as it lit up, blinding the obviously very mad, very ugly Downworlder.

The two Shadowhunters both jumped from the counter, glass shattering under their feet. So much for the soundless rune! Ari kept her guard up, her eyes fixated on the lone vampire. She stepped to the left as Ed stepped to the right, both ready to lunge if necessary. The goal here was not to hurt or kill the vampire but to bring him back to answer for his crimes. But of course, there was no reason for the Child of the night to want to go quietly.

“Come on Mendoza, you know fighting will only make it worse.” She could try to convince him.

“So, what? I’m supposed to just follow you to get decapitated, is that it, Dragonnoir?”

“Better be decapitated than burned alive, don’t you think?” said Edward, thinking himself to be funny.

“Not helping, Ed,” Arianne muttered under her breath.

“We’re gonna catch you anyway, so what’s the point in running?” Ed went on.

“You are but a child, barely an adult in the eyes of the Clave (kind of an exaggeration on his part), and even less so in mine. You do not stand a chance against me, Longford.”

“Oh, really?” Edward smirked.

Ari did not have the time to sigh in annoyance, Mendoza showed his long canines before attacking the young shadowhunter. His speed caught her friend off guard, but she’d prepared herself. She sped in his direction, a hand in her pocket before throwing powdered silver on her opponent. He stopped instantly, roared as he fell to his knees. When he could finally feel free of the first effects of the silver, he raised his face to see Edward Longford pointing a Seraph Blade at his throat as he felt the point of an oak stake against his back, right where his heart was.

* * * *

“Please, do not take me to the Clave. Shadowhunters have other things to think about, they don’t care about a rogue vampire like me,” Mendoza pleaded, each of his arms held by one Nephilim.

“You’re right. The Clave doesn’t have time for you,” Edward replied.

“So, what?” Mendoza scoffed. “You’re taking me in, scolding me and letting me go?”

“Marcel requested that this matter should be handled amongst your kind, to answer to your laws. Benoît decided to grant his request.”

Mendoza’s face twisted in horror, the colour fading from his skin. Marcel was the head of the Vampire Clan of the city. Vampires answered to him and he was known for his intolerance for those who did not abide by the law and for his harsh punishments. He was one of the oldest vampires alive —older than the shadowhunters— yet, he agreed to the accords, even encouraged his peers to accept change, collaboration and modernity. Maybe that was the reason why he was still alive, he decided to live in the present. His methods of ruling however, remained somewhat archaic; they were also the reason why no one dared to challenge him.

“I’m sorry, Mendoza,” said Ari. And she was. She had known the vampire since she had moved to this institute. She did not really like him, but he was one of those things that had always been there; something constant that she could rely on. She guessed that wasn’t true anymore.

“Ari, please!” For the first time since they had captured him, Mendoza struggled, but it was too late.

1 AM, Place de la Comédie. Marcel’s Clan was one that learned many centuries ago how to hide in plain sight. The Place de La Comédie was the busiest plaza in town whether it be during the day or during the night. Its eighteenth-century buildings were alight with nightlife, mundanes walking by completely unaware of the two glamoured shadowhunters or their prisoner. The chic bars bordered the square, the Three Graces stood above all on their fountain and most importantly, the Opera House —after three fires, a Revolution and more wars than one can count— still stood proud. It made Ari think of her mother and her love for lyrical music, but she quickly dismissed the thought. There was no time for the faint memories of an orphan.

They entered the Opera House and found themselves in the great hall where several marble staircases started, making the place look like a labyrinth. The ceilings, one high and one low — a simple path from the second floor to the windows — were wonderfully painted and decorated. Statues and columns dressed the walls and the original Three Graces throned at the centre of it all. The three enormous picture windows, above on the visible second floor, let the city lights in and the girl couldn’t help but wonder where the vampires stayed during the day. They could not possibly stay hidden in the theatre all day, could they?

All these refineries and eighteenth-century architecture would be beautiful were it not for the eerie silence and the fact that the place crawled with vampires. Goosebumps waved against her skin, the hair at the back of her neck rising as she suppressed a shiver. She didn’t say a word, just waited as she was supposed to. Even Edward knew it was a time to shut up. Mendoza probably hoped that they would never show.

Then a shadow on the railing above, and boom. The shadow fell on the first floor gracefully, yet loudly, a loud bang signalling the beginning of the ceremony. Marcel rose menacingly in the darkness in front of them. Ari and Ed looked up to see the clan gathering above them, observing from the railing, Mendoza’s judgement rendered to be a spectacle.

“Javier Mendoza,” called Marcel. His voice echoed against the walls, pure, loud, and deep. “You have been accused of killing mundanes as it is forbidden by the laws established by the Montpellier Clan under the rule of Marie of Montpellier Queen of Aragon and reinforced by the Accords made with the Nephilim, the Warlocks and the Fair Folk. What do you plead?” The strong man raised an eyebrow, the corner of his lips curling.

Mendoza did not answer.

Marcel stepped out from the shadows.

“Behold!” he exclaimed raising his arms in the air. “For _Guiltiness will speak, though tongues were out of use,_ ” the man said with a smile. It was obvious he had a flair for the theatrics.

Edward thought this to be cruel. Mendoza was going to die, maybe he deserved it, but making a show of it? No one deserved that. He looked to his _parabatai_ and although her gaze didn’t meet his —it was too focused on the Clan leader— he noticed her jaw clenching and knew she was biting her tongue not to react to this cruelty. Shadowhunters had no say in Downworlder’s affairs if mundanes weren’t involved, and even when they were, as long as the culprit was punished, the French Conclave tended to look the other way.In this case, they just had to make sure that Mendoza would be punished, in these times of war, the Clave didn’t really care how.

“Your silence speaks,” the vampire added. “Friends,” he called out to the crowd. “This man brought shame upon our clan.” A murmur of agreement passed through the entire clan. “This man had no respect for the frailty and the substantiality of human-life, our life source!” he said louder. The murmur amplified itself. “This man put all _your_ lives at risk by breaking the Law!” The crowd roared and asked for the prisoner’s head. “Shall he be punished?!” Marcel finally shouted. And the Clan broke into a chaos of yells, shouts and screams, but when Marcel spoke, Arianne and Edward could still hear him very clearly, even though he did not seem to strain his voice, his face torn by his grin. “Shadowhunters, stay and witness that justice has been served.”

* * * *

The institute of Montpellier had no entryway that could be gone through by Mundanes. Not only was it glamoured — thus magically hiding the place — but its entrance was a portal, leading to the Sanctuary, a place where Downworlder and Shadowhunters alike could meet. Jacques Morisseau, a warlock raised by monks who believed his abilities were holy rather than evil, created the portal centuries ago, imbuing magic in the arch of the institute so that it would feed the doorway to the centre of the city. It was unlike the Fairchild portals for it could not be closed. Not the normal way anyway.

Arianne stepped into the Sanctuary followed closely by her _parabatai_. The sound of their feet shuffling on the ground echoed in the empty room. It was not unusual for them to find the premises of the Institute empty. Unlike the Institute of Marseille where Arianne had spent her childhood in the company of dozens of passing shadowhunters at a time, the Institute of Montpellier was… Well, empty. It was manned by three shadowhunters total: one head of the institute and member of the clave and two underage Shadowhunters. More Nephilim of the French conclave lived nearby, but none of them cared for the Château d’Halabi.

A cough echoed from her left, and in a flash, the two young shadowhunters had taken out their sword and were ready to attack the threat. It took only Ari a second to realise that the person in front of her was not a menace, or at least not an immediate one. She rolled her eyes, relaxed her stance, but while Ed put his seraph blade away in its scabbard, Ari greeted her teeth and kept it in hand.

“Good thing I am not Sebastian Morgenstern,” Mélodie Renarusé said. “You two would be dead.” The middle-aged woman stood right next to the only object that could close the portal (and destroy it in the process), and although she knew that the trained shadowhunter could not possibly fall on the lever, seeing her so close to it made the young woman cringe.

“It’s not like Sebastian Morgenstern cares about such a small institute,” Arianne said. “What are you here for?”

“I’m here to see the head of this institute but it appears he is out, and the place is completely defenceless.” Mélodie crossed her arms, her hair neatly pulled back giving her an even more severe appearance.

“He’s gone to deal with the pack of the Gévaudan,” Edward said politely. “But you’re welcome to wait for him in the library. Surely, you’ll be more comfortable.” The woman raised an eyebrow.

“I see one of you is growing up,” she said. Ari took a step towards her, ready to give her a piece of her mind, but Ed’s arm sprung in front of her. She looked up at him, and him down at her. She sighed and took a step back.

“He should be back soon,” she said, walking towards the door without a look at the head of Marseille’s Institute.She stopped right before stepping inside the walls only the children of the Angel could enter; she wanted to ask, but for once she shut herself up by biting her lower lip and walked in under the watchful eyes of Edward.

Edward had changed out of his gear after walking miss Renarusé to the library. Arianne had gone to the training room, probably destroying the punching bag that was —not anymore, perhaps— hanging from the ceiling. He knew what she was feeling. One day she would learn not to blame the woman for the decision of the Clave. After all, she was not the only who refused to take on three orphans at a time; and it was certainly not her fault that her younger sister was forbidden by her institute to keep ties with her old life, or that her elder brother chose to join the Silent Brothers. She had sent countless letters in the first years she was in Montpellier. All her letters to Diane, her five-year-younger sister, had come back unopened. Yet, every week she kept writing, in the hopes that one day, they would let her read them. Sometimes, he would hear her pray to the Angel, asking that He let her sister remember her and her love for her. Mélodie had been the one to tell her that the Fleurose family decided that, to get over her grief, the six-year-old was to break all ties with those that could share it with her. She was fifteen now.

Although Edward did not blame Diane for her lack of response, he did blame Christophe. He was three years her elder and did not deign to respond to her letters under the pretence that he was too frightened to feel close to her and lose her as they did their brother and parents. Edward thought him a coward, and weak, hiding behind grief in one single letter as he said goodbye to her and to himself. One letter in eight years; one letter to say goodbye; one letter that gave her hope only to snatch it away. He became Brother Havilah the following year, on his nineteenth birthday. Edward had been holding her all night after she read that letter. She had been afraid to read it, afraid to open it and yet excited, happy, hopeful.

Edward clenched his teeth, walking towards the training room. Her _parabatai_ was all she had left, and she was all he had left.

In their misfortune, at least they had found each other. He followed the sounds of blades hitting wood and opened the door to see Arianne throwing knives at the target, hitting bulls eye without even taking the time to adjust her aim. A trickle of sweat rolled down the side of her face, her brow knitting in frustration and concentration. She barely acknowledged his presence. She did not need to look at him or say hello for him to know she had noticed him. Her stance relaxed slightly, although her muscles still tightened under the rapid and strong movements. Her whole body worked into the throw: each muscle was elegantly highlighted as her arm extended, her back gave her motion, her core steadied, and her legs tied her to the ground.

Edward crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe. As he had guessed, the punching bag had been beaten to the ground. He sighed and looked at her. She wouldn’t want to talk about it.

“D’you wanna talk about it?” he asked.

“Nope,” she said as another blade hit the fourth target’s bullseye.

He guessed it. She reached behind her, only to find an empty table. She grunted and kicked it over.

“I don’t want to see her,” she then blurted out.

“You don’t have to,” he told her.

“But I wanna know why she’s here,” she added, crossing her arms and pouting. He raised an eyebrow.

“Benoît will tell us anyway,” he said. She sighed and sat on the ground, her training gear wet with sweat. She untied her hair to tie them again, this time slightly more neatly, as Edward let himself drop by her side.

“I heard they were evacuating Institutes after the attack on Hong Kong,” she said, crossing her legs underneath her. “Do you think that’s what she’s here for? To tell us to go to Idris?”

“And what will we do more there than here, uh?” he asked her with a smirk. “It’s not like the Château is an Institute of choice, anyway.”

“Well… It is strategically well situated,” she told him. “The castle is remote from any mundane activity, but geographically in the middle of everything: I mean, we have one of the oldest Vampire Clans right in the old Montpellier and the biggest European pack in the Gévaudan which is not so far North. Also, the Warlocks of Montmaur are right next door, and you can’t forget all the mundane _coupeurs de feu_ are mostly from the Cévennes.” She picked up a large shard of wood which had probably flown by when she started attacking the targets as though they were demons. “If he gets here, he’s right next to everyone. Easy access to all communities.”

“Not to mention that the Fey surround us,” he sighed continuing her list. “Between the Leit du Grehsilou, la Conca and Taich Hill, they control the land.”

She laid her head on his shoulder, looking by the window in front of her. The sun at its peak now, illuminated the woods around the domain. She sighed again.

“Do you still think they won’t attack?” she asked after a second of silence. “This Institute solely survives because of the Accords and mostly because of the good faith of the Fair Folk.”

“What’s the point?” he asked. “As we said, the Fair Folk already has access to every community. So, unless for some reason, they decide to settle above ground,” he explained, “I doubt they will bother to try to conquer a mostly empty institute.”

* * * *

Ari woke up next to Eddie and smiled. The set of _parabatai_ and Benoit, the head of the institute, had been advised by Mélodie to leave the premises a few days before. Even though most of the Conclave was gone, the three shadowhunters stayed. As Ed had mentioned however, there was no need to fret. No one would attack an already empty institute. What was the point? But Benoit still made them understand that if for some unknown reason, Sebastian Morgernstern were to attack the Institute, their job was to warn the Clave and not attack before getting reinforcement.

She could hear the faint crow of a rooster from a nearby farm. Light was seeping through the shutters, rays of sun finding their way through the darkness. Her room was not big; it didn’t need to be. Her double bed took most of the space, her walls needed a new coat of paint, and her clothes and other things such as random piles of books, her camera and photographs littered the floor, but she did not care, she actually liked it. The mess was hers.

Her brother’s dagger rested on her bedside table, on top of an old mundane fairytale book he often used to read to their sister. Inside, she knew that a photograph of her parents was neatly folded between the pages. She grabbed onto her pendent, where a dragon, the symbol of her family, was engraved. Christophe had offered it to her before her first rune was drawn on her body. Her family was still whole then; Diane, her late brother Yann, herself and Christophe still lived at the Marseille’s institute with their parents. She sat up, careful not to wake Eddie. He was so peaceful when he was sleeping. She did not want him to wake up because of her guilt. The sheets slid off her body as she swung her legs, to sit on the side of the bed. She grabbed Yann’s dagger and breathed out a small chuckle, accompanied by a single tear.

He was younger than her and Christophe and yet, he seemed to be the most protective out of their siblings. She closed her eyes as the vision of her parents lying on the ground came to her. They were already dead. She had known it, even then, but she _had had_ to run to them and try to draw an _iratze_ on them. Her hand closed on the blade of the dark dagger. Yann had not even been runed then. He had no training. Yet, the moment he noticed the demon’s dart dropping towards her, he did not hesitate. Armed with only this little blade he ran and shielded her from harm. It was her fault. She knew it and Edward knew it too.

“Arianne, stop.” She felt Edward’s arm go around her to grab onto her hand.

She opened her eyes and noticed blood trickling down the blade from her hand and onto her off white chemise and sheets. She sighed and let him take the weapon away from her. He grabbed an already bloody handkerchief and cleaned the blade with well-practiced movements. This handkerchief was all that was left of his mother. Arianne remembered the first time he had used it to wash her hands and dagger: “Now our guilt is one,” he had said. When Edward was younger, before he was moved to Montpellier’s Institute, he had played on the shores of Lake Lynn near his house in Idris. He would have drowned were it not for his mother’s courage. She had dived into the lake without a second thought to save him, unfortunately, the poisonous water infiltrated her lungs. She did not survive the night. The two of them lost someone because of their own reckless behaviour. She had already been in the Institute for a year when Eddie arrived. She remembered him being angry at the world.

Edward set the dagger carefully on the book and grabbed onto her hands. She turned around to face him, both of them now sitting cross-legged in front of each other and looked at him in the eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to wake you.” She meant it. She didn’t think the blade was still sharp enough to cut through her skin. She didn’t think the pain would wake her _parabatai_ up. It certainly had not called her own attention.

“It’s not you,” he lied with a smirk. “It’s that bloody bird.” She raised an eyebrow. The rooster was way too far to wake him up. If she had learned anything by sleeping with him every other night for the past five years, it was that no sound could possibly wake him up.

“Right,” she mocked. “And I’m the Queen of England.”

“With that accent, I don’t think so,” he replied and they both laughed. Her laugh was interrupted by his hand pushing on her wound.

“Ouch!” she giggled. “How dare you?”

“You deserve it!” he exclaimed.

After cleaning the blood off her hands, he grabbed his stele from under his pillow and focused on his _iratze_. He furrowed his brows in concentration as he drew the rune. His face was enlightened by stripes of golden light seeping through the shutters; his eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks as he blinked a couple times. He had never been the best at drawing runes accurately. Whenever they fought, he would mark her up only after battle, or before when they could plan it. Otherwise, Ari would be the one drawing the runes on the both of them. He would hold the stele on her, but she would move his hand. A rune drawn by a _parabatai_ was always stronger than any other rune.

The relieving burn faded as well as the cut.

“What do you wanna do today?” he asked. “We were supposed to have demonology studies with mrs Verlac, but she left for Idris, so….” he trailed. She smiled.

“So, we’re free.”

* * * *

Wood clashed against wood, and Ari lunged towards her adversary in combat. Ed blocked her wooden sword with one of his own and spun to kick her right side. She grunted, off balance, and rolled on the ground to distance herself from him. She got up, spread her feet as to anchor herself to the ground beneath her.

The two _parabatai_ had always loved to spar. It was what they had first bonded over. When Edward first got to the southern French institute, he was full of anger, and he rejected her any time she tried to approach him; but, one day, she caught him training with weapons that were forbidden to his use. Instead of ratting him out, she had actually joined him. That fight had started with strength, technique and jest, but had ended with rage, confusion and sobs; both of them clinging onto one another as they let out all their emotion and grief flood from their eyes.

“Your side was open to me, _again_ ,” he scolded. “You’re gonna get hurt someday.”

“You mean, before or after I kick your ass?” she asked before swinging her sword at him once more.

He ducked, and with his own weapon hit her left side. He had one knee on the grassy ground, and his two hands gripping the handle of his sword tightly. At the contact, Ari grunted and froze, her arm stopped mid movement in her attack. She rolled her eyes.

“You were saying?” he asked.

“Fine!” she admitted, landing him a hand to get up.

Ed, in an attempt to surprise her, pulled on her hand and swung his leg above her to knock her to the ground. His sword was at her throat, as he smiled proudly. She raised an eyebrow and looked down at her own hand with a smug smirk. Her own wooden blade was digging into his stomach. Had he actually tried to kill her, had they had real weapons, he would be dead, eviscerated by his own movements. She just had had to be quick enough to put the blade in the right position.

“You’re slow,” she smirked. He rolled off her, but both of them stayed on the ground, looking up at the bright blue sky.

Instead of sparring in the training room, the two young shadowhunters had decided to glamour themselves up and train on the Esplanade, a little park in the city centre where many high schoolers and young university students came to read laying on the grass, play the guitar with friends or practice yoga and slacklining. The light music escaped through the air, and Eddie could not help but be thankful for Southern France. In December, Idris was maybe not reaching freezing temperatures — although it depended on where you were in the country — but it was definitely below ten degrees Celsius (fifty degrees Fahrenheit). Montpellier, such as the rest of Southern France was warmer. To those used to this weather such as Arianne, the warm winter air was excruciatingly cold, but to him, it felt like the beginning of fall. From the corner of his eye, he noticed her sit up and grab her jacket nonchalantly and lay back down to gaze at the cloud free sky. He smirked but did not say a word, letting himself be warmed up by the sun that seeped under his t-shirt.

The both of them were panting lightly, still recovering from their training session. The sun illuminated their skin, glinting with a thin layer of sweat.They stayed there for what may have been an hour and he came to wonder if she had fallen asleep. She had not been sleeping well the past couple of nights. He should know, whenever she had nightmares she had the tendency to kick! After the attack on Los Angeles and the rescue of the Blackthorn children, it had been revealed that Faeries were in league with Sebastian Morgenstern. She had been thinking about that a lot, being surrounded by the Fair Folk and all. But weirdly enough, her attention was more focused on the demonic shadowhunter.

“You know?” he said, suddenly rising and picking Ari’s camera from her bag. “This is not what I had in mind when I said we were free!” He clicked, and the camera went off. He heard a little jingling alerting him he took the last photo of the roll. He took the photo out and shoved it in his pocket. Ari always took instant photos.

Still laying on the ground, she cocked an eyebrow, and smirked.

“And what exactly did you have in mind?”

* * * *

“Seriously?” she asked Eddie as he climbed down the other side of the fence to the Praetor Lupus manor of the area.

The manor, called castle by the locals, was by no means hidden. Edward liked the fact that in Occitania – a southern region of France – most of the supernatural creatures actually enjoyed hiding in plain sight. The manor was used as a venue for many events, conferences and weddings for mundanes and the shadow world alike, but some parts of the edifice were reserved for the training and education of newly turned Downworlders of the area. For the most part, the rehabilitated vampires, warlocks and werewolves left the Manor to join a clan, a mentor or a pack, but a few, called the praetors, decide to remain and help.

In Praetor Lupus’ Houses all over the world, praetors were usually exclusively werewolves, but not at the Manor. The head of the house, Chastel, thought that to help a vampire, you needed someone who understood vampires, and there was no one better for it than vampires themselves, and the same thing applied to all creatures. While they could simply send them to clans directly, the House in Occitania took charge of rehabilitation. Only well taught Downworlders were allowed to leave the premises and join the ‘real world’.

Ari and Ed had never met Chastel. They did not even know his first name, but they both believed the werewolf was right. Most of the time, Ari was proud to live in an area where the accords were respected, where mundanes were mostly safe and the relations between shadowhunters and Downworlders were this good; but sometimes, Ed reminded her that maybe, just maybe, it was because there were only three annoyingly noisy and smug Shadowhunters.

Edward challenged her to follow him with a simple look. That look that she hated. That look that said she would never dare. She grunted and climbed down the other side.

“One day Eddie, if we keep sneaking in, we’re gonna get struck down by Benoît.”

“But in the meantime,” said her _parabatai_ , “We’re gonna go in and have fun. The twins texted me earlier. Seems there’s gonna be a showdown between Ellie and Tomas after class.” Ellie was a young vampire and Tomas a young werewolf. They were both a year older than the shadowhunter duo. They did not truly know them, but just like everywhere else, some people were so popular you knew who they were. What they did know, was that they were always bickering, and their little feud was usually the talk of the entire House.

“I’m sure Lisa is team Ellie, because I mean, girl power,” Ed said as they both walked alongside the wall of the main building.

“And Marion is definitely team Tomas,” she told her _parabatai_. “Cause, I mean, he’s hot.” He turned to her his brow knitted together. “What? Can’t I find a guy hot?”

“Guys aren’t usually your type,” he snickered.

“Some of them are,” she insisted. “Not many of them, granted, but some of them.”

In the sunlight, her freckles were brought out, as though paint had splashed over her face. Her green eyes made him think, for a brief instant, of the fields by Alicante. Eddie rarely talked about his native country, but even though he preferred Montpellier in many ways, he always thought of Idris as home. He shoved her lightly, and smirked.

“I don’t believe you, no one can like men and be immune to my charms,” he said showing his perfectly white teeth with a grin. She rolled her eyes, and squinted towards him, taking a step closer, seemingly looking for something.

“What are you searching for?” he said leaning back, as she was dangerously close.

“Your charms, can’t see them,” she said and as he shoved her again, she puffed out laughing.

“Not that we want to break your beautiful shadowhuntery duo or anything,” Lisa shouted as she appeared around the corner of the building.

“But the fight is in five minutes,” Marion, her identical twin, said as she joined her sister.

“Well, hello to you too!” Ed said with a smirk looking at one specific twin. Lisa looked down, hiding her blushing purple cheeks behind her blond hair. Marion rolled her eyes but turned excitedly to Arianne.

“You ready for a shirtless guy?” she asked as the four of them started walking towards the gym.

“It’s Praetor Lupus,” Ari answered. “When are there any dressed guys?”

“True,” the warlock twin replied. “But I’m not gonna complain.”

“You know,” the shadowhunter said playfully as she turned to face her _parabatai_ shamelessly flirting behind her. “Guys at this school should really learn to obey the rules, cause all these shirtless dudes are starting to make Eddie feel a little insecure.” He squinted his eyes at her. They entered the gym, packed full of students of all kind, ready to see the fight.

“Do not transfer your insecurities on me,” he told her. “You’re the one that needs to up her game if you want Veronica to notice you.” He got her. She would have hit him, but he was a bit far. Marion’s lips, a darker purple than her skin, were agape.

“Veronica Lans-“her way too loud voice was interrupted by Ari’s hand covering Marion’s mouth.

“Shhhh!” she said looking around them to see if anyone had heard her. “No need for your entire school to know, okay?”

They all found some space to sit down in the bleachers.

“But I thought you were into Jacob,” Marion demanded more explanation, as she tied her hair up, in the hot and damp room.

“That asshole tried to bite me,” Ed said.

“Yeah, and he was a jerk to me on our first date last week,” Arianne explained.

“Yeah, the boy was like exhaling smoke in her face, telling her that she looked good _for a Nephilim_ and-“

“Yeah, yeah,” his _parabatai_ said waving a dismissing hand, shutting him up. “We’ve got it.”

“Quand on parle du loup,” Lisa let out in French.

Jacob was walking up the stairs of the bleachers, his nose covered with a bandage and his skin around it was purple. When he noticed the two shadowhunters, his eyes went wide, and he lowered his face pretending he did not see them.

“Edward,” Arianne turned to her _parabatai_ with warning eyes. “What did you do?”

“Ari, he deserved it,” he defended himself.

“By the Angel, Ed!” she exclaimed burying her face in her palms. “What were you thinking? If anyone hears that a shadowhunter beat up a wolf-“

“Ari, it has nothing to do with the Downworld and you know it!”

The twins looked at each other above the shoulders of the two Nephilim in between them, trying to find out if one of the sisters knew what the heck was going on.

“You told him to stay away and he wouldn’t take no for an answer,” he said. “And no one disrespects my _parabatai_ , got it?” he cut her off in the middle of a rant about the responsibilities he had as a Shadowhunter and representative of the Clave. “It was just one single punch anyway,” he then added. She rolled her eyes, shoved him slightly and without looking at him, muttered a thank you under her breath, trying to hold back a smirk.

“But, I’ll have you know,” she said looking at him in the eyes with a smirk. “I can fight my own battles.” He smiled in turn and mussed her hair, which owed him an elbow in his ribs.

“I know,” he said. “But your battles are my battles, right?”

“ _The Angel do so to me_!” she recited part of their vows.

The crowd around them was becoming restless. The two contestants to the fight weren’t showing, and more and more of them found a new interest in the two marked up fighters in the room. Shadowhunters weren’t supposed to show up at the Manor; why would they unless something was wrong? The two teenagers had made sure not to wear gear, to draw less attention. A lot of the students their age, did not even pay attention to them anymore. twenty-year-olds often saw them two sneaking into the twin’s dorm room. Apparently, however, it was a well-kept secret. Eddie and she shared a worried look. She readjusted her sleeves and her scarf to hide her marks, but Edward was wearing short sleeves, which did not help.

“Ari,” he said laying a hand on her back. “Maybe we should go.” Her eyes scanned the room.

“We know most of them, even if they never saw us here,” she whispered to him.

“Maybe, but a lot of them are adopting defensive stances or worse being hostile.”

He was right. Since Sebastian and his Endarkened had started attacking institute after institute, covens, clans and packs, none of the two had set foot in a House unless on official business. All over the world, Downworld relations were worsening, but having had no more altercations than usual, Arianne didn’t think that people’s behaviour towards them would change. Maybe she had been wrong. 

Their worry was soon squashed however when Ellie and Tomas erupted into the room. The crowd’s focus turned to the two downworlders with cheers and boos and claps. Ari took her camera out —she had put in a new film — and took a picture of her _parabatai_ as he rose to his feet, cheering for one of them, or maybe the two of them. She laughed.

“You guys should come over more often,” Marion told her. “We barely see you anymore.” She pouted. “I saw you what? Once in the past three months?”

“Yeah, well, in case you forgot,” she said with a sad laugh. “We were at war two months ago, and obviously, it’s not over so…”

“Arianne, you guys are so young,” Marion went on. “It’s not like you’re gonna fight in a battle any time soon.”

“Maybe not, although fighting age is 18, but-“she was interrupted by a fire-message descending in front of her. The flames snapped Edward from his conversation with Lisa as Ari grabbed the letter.

“The institute is under attack,” Eddie read over her shoulder. Her hand went to her brother’s dagger at her waist. Edward turned to Lisa and told her to warn the head of the House. If the Institute was targeted, surely other Downworlders should know.

“You were saying?” Ari asked Marion before springing to her feet and running towards the institute.

* * * *

Dagger in one hand, Seraph blade in another, Ari emerged on the other side of the portal, her _parabatai_ close behind her, ready to fight anyone that could be standing on the other side. Arianne and Edward had debated on whether they should go to Idris or the Institute. The boy argued that if Benoit had had time to message them, then he’d had time to inform the Clave as well.

The Sanctuary was empty, but the two teenagers could hear some commotion upstairs. Ari hung her Seraph blade at her weapon’s belt and took out her stele. He tugged at the collar of his shirt for her to draw the marks on him, she made quick work of it. A few seconds, and he found himself covered in terms of agility, sound, strength and rapidity. She put her stele back in her boot, as he took his out. She grabbed his hand, ready to direct his movements on her skin, but before the warmth of it touched her skin, they heard a shout coming from above. They gave each other a look and ran upstairs, as silently as possible, which was not that easy for her.

She looked at him in the eye, and with small movements of her hand motioned for him to remain here while she would go see if they were few enough to take them on, or if they would need to run to Idris.

The Portal! She could hear Faeries and Endarkened talk. If she could hear them, then they could hear her too. The Portal needed to be closed, otherwise they would have a way to enter Idris without any trouble! She approached the doorway to the library, where the voices were coming from. She peaked, unseen, as she saw Mider, a Faery Knight she had seen Benoit discuss with before, and a young man with blond almost white hair and dark eyes through which she seemed able to take a peek into Hell. The two of them were talking intently while more knights were walking around the large library. She counted eight of them, all of them Gentry, but she figured not all of them were in the library. There were probably more of them hiding in the shadows somewhere.

She didn’t say a word, her breathing barely audible, until she noticed a shape under the table on which the Shadowhunter, probably an Endarkened, and the Knight were working. She squinted, to get a better look at it. Was it a weapon? A magical artefact perhaps? A…?

-

It was Benoit, lying dead. She gasped, took a step back and brought her hand to her mouth. But it was too late.

She swirled around and ran towards her _parabatai_ as they heard the man say:

“Catch her.”

She reached Eddie and grabbed him by the sleeve. She was still holding her brother’s dagger. A knight lunged on her, but with one swift movement, her feet not slowing down, she planted her blade into his stomach.

Arrows started to fly past them as they reached downstairs. Edward heard one whistle past his ear and gave a look behind him. He saw Mider aim at Arianne and release the deadly arrow. The Shadowhunter’s hand clenched on his seraph blade, as he moved behind his _parabatai_ , his back to her, and sliced the arrow in two before it reached them. He ran backwards, having his friend’s back as she fought assailants from the other side. Another Faery emerged right before the Sanctuary door. This one was not Gentry. Its ugly face resembled the twisted bark of a tree. She kicked the Fey and he bumped the door open. In a few strides she was right in front of the Portal, but if she went in Edward would have to destroy it… From here.

“What are you waiting for?” Eddie asked, almost sang nervously as he eyed down all the Faeries that were slowly entering the room. They looked like poachers finding their prey had fallen into their trap. Her hand clenched on her brother’s dagger.

“I need to tell you one thing, okay?” she said.

He looked back over his shoulder, his eyes darting back and forth between her reflection in the blue portal and the sanctuary doors. He heard the way her voice wavered, and he could see her glassy eyes, her jaw tightening and her brows knitting. But he did not have the time to ask what was going on.

“I love you, brother!” she exclaimed, and before he could realise what she was doing, he felt her grab his arm, and use his weight to throw him into the portal.

Faeries started to swarm towards her, but her hand reached the lever by the Portal and smashed on it. Everything stopped, the Faeries, the Endarkened, even her. Her hand was still on the handle as she turned her face to see the Portal. It turned to glass and cracked. It seemed so slow, yet it happened so fast. With the sound of centuries of passages being paved from this place, the portal shattered into millions of pieces, leaving a gaping hole behind. And then silence.

All Arianne could hear was her own breathing.

* * * *

Edward was right in front of the gates of the Gard of Alicante, the capital of Idris, homeland to all Shadowhunters. He panted and turned around in hurry and gaped at the portal hardening before him. It cracked, broke, and shattered; disappearing, only to leave an emptiness before him. He clenched his jaw. His breathing accelerated, his heart pounded.

“ARIANNE!” he shouted in the void.

His eyes widened, his throat hurt as he shouted her name again. He brought his hand to his chest, right above his heart, where his _parabatai_ rune was. His eyes wide opened, he did not move an inch as other Nephilim circled him, _adamas_ pointed at him. His own arms limp as he looked where the portal had been, where he had come from, where his _parabatai_ had been. He dropped his sword as he heard commands for him not to be hurt being shouted around him. A tear fell down his cheek as Mélodie Renardrusé grabbed his shoulders and forced him to look at her.

“Boy, what happened?” she asked her eyes looking intensely into his lifeless ones.

“They attacked the Institute,” he said, his eyes glistening.

“Then the portal,” she breathed out before letting go of him. “Shadowhunters prepare! All fighters you can find be brought here. Sebastian Morgenstern has access to an ever-open portal. We’re all in peril!” she shouted at all that were around him.

“No,” Edward said in almost a whisper. But his words fell unheard, as Mélodie kept shouting her commands. “No.” he repeated louder this time.

“No?” she questioned.

“The portal was destroyed, I saw it,” his voice cracked. That is when she saw his hand, where she saw his _parabatai_ rune still dark from under his white shirt. She gave a single look at the men around them and they retreated silently. “I’ve got to go back,” he told her. “I can still feel her, I know she’s alive!” Her sad eyes met his, full of new found conviction.

“My poor boy,” she said, bring her hand to his cheek.

He jerked back, ready to shout at her, when he fell to the ground in pain. He shouted and clutched his burning rune. He had never felt like this. Every cell of his body ached, as his _parabatai_ rune glowed a burning red, and he could feel the bond with Arianne suffering. She was here, and she was hurting, and the cords that linked them to each other were tightening to the point where it hurt so badly.

Edward could not remember fainting or being transported to the house that used to belong to the Renardrusé family. The awakening was something he thought he would never forget. A burning sensation paralized his left arm, the boiling blood trickling from his _Parabatai_ rune down to his hand. Before he even realised what it meant, despair, fear and disgust launched him forward and he vomited the small breakfast he’d had with Arianne in the Rue de l’aiguillerie. Arianne… In a single movement, he found himself standing up and getting himself ready for a fight, putting his gear on and grabbing his stele, fire punctuating every one of his movements.

Mélodie must have heard the commotion, because as he was about to leave the room, she opened the door and blocked the little passage he had towards his _parabatai_.

“Get out of my way,” he said between greeted teeth. Despite his age, the young Shadowhunter was much taller than his superior, and towered over her easily. “I do not want to hurt you, but I will.” Her face, having shown only empathy and pity until then, broke in a superior scowl.

“Listen to me, _boy_ , you may try your best to get passed me, but you will not be able to,” she said taking a step forward. “And even if you were to succeed, what are you gonna do then, huh?” Her hard stare made him walk backwards without him meaning to, up until he hit the bed behind him, trapped into a corner. “Fight the entire Endarkened Army on your own, succeed where your betters have failed? Please, you are but a child. Put a foot outside that door and you’ll get yourself, _and_ your Parabatai killed if she can still be saved.”

Her last words were like an ice bucket thrown at his face.

“She can!” He exclaimed, and this time the middle aged woman was the one to take a step back. “She is alive, and I can bring her back,” he said fiercely. He pulled on his collar to reveal his Mark. It was crimson red, unlike any other rune anyone had ever seen before, and Mélodie could not help but look at it horrified. Could he be turned by association?

“I am fine,” he said reading her eyes. “But Ari is not. She’s scared, she’s all alone and I need to find her.”

“I understand your pain, Mr Longford,” she said. “But going after her right now is not going to save her. You need to take care of yourself, and let us work towards a solution.”

Edward had never felt like he had been doing something so terribly wrong in his entire life. He could feel her pull him towards her. The rope, no the metallic, unbreakable cord that linked him to her was pulled so tight it was painful. Separation hurt _Parabatai_ and that, everyone knew. What they did not all know was what having an Endarkened one felt like. The pain, the scorch that he felt coursing through his veins was almost unbearable. He found himself sweating, and trembling at times. Shivering in pain and in agony.

The attacks on the Institutes had made for a few broken sets of _Parabatai._ Mostly, the half remaining was, simply put, the half surviving. In this world, there was nothing worse than loosing a _Parabatai_. At the very least, Edward could take comfort in the idea that he would see Arianne again. He could save her and he knew it.

“Conor was the better half of me,” a woman said. She had not only lost a brother, this woman had lost a twin. They were the most powerful kind of _parabatai_. She would never see Conor again, and she had to share that story with the world right now. Renardrusé had forced him to come to that stupid meeting. They were meant to talk about grief, to bask in the community and know that they were not alone. One by one, they each told their stories about ceremonies, life threatening situations and most traumatising of all, seeing the other die.

“What about you, Edward?” The lady leading the group had asked. He could not remember her name. She was a short woman with a kind face and dark frizzy hair. Telling her off felt like it would hurt her, which probably was why she was perfect for the job.

“I don’t know why I am here.” He crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. “My _Parabatai_ is not dead. She’s been turned, which means that I can still save her, if only they would _let_ me.” Mélodie, who had been standing in a corner, overseeing things rolled her eyes.

“It’s understandable to not know how to envision your life without a _Parabatai_ , the emptiness you feel can be so strong and overpowering, it’s hard to see past it.”

“When our bond broke, I could feel it, and I don’t mean in my heart I felt a void, I mean, physically. I could feel the emptiness,” some other guy participated in.

“But that’s my point, there is no void. I still feel her, my rune is still here, bleeding red, and I can still feel Arianne burning. I can feel her suffering, her despair. I can _feel her!_ ”

The kind woman was about to say something, but was cut off by Mélodie.

“You mean that you feel her? As you did before, I mean,” she asked him without really looking at him. She was lost in her thoughts, calculating something, deep inside her mind.

“Yes, I told you, she needs my help! She’s trapped in that Endarkened version of herself.”

“But you feel her through your rune, yes?” Edward nodded in response. “Follow me.”

The way to the Silent City was a long one. They rode on horseback for a long time before they reached the entrance they needed. They were galloping through the fields outside of Alicante when he finally questioned her. After all, the Silent Brothers’ dwelling was open to Shadowhunters from a much closer distance than wherever she was taking him.

“The Silent City has a special connection to the Spiral Labyrinth,” she explained, though the whipping wind prevented him from hearing her properly. “They are currently working on an Endarkened to find a cure.”

Hope filled his chest like never after his arrival to Idris and relief flooded his lungs: they were trying to save them. They were trying to save them all.

The entrance to the Silent City was not as gloomy as the one near his small Institute. Lit by many candles and torches, the light was reflecting against crystal and glass for the benefit of warlocks coming in, he supposed. A statue of the Angel marble white, stood proudly in the centre of the room.

_Mélodie Renardrusé, Edward Longford, for what reason should you come through this particular door?_

“Brother Zachariah, we are here, for we have news about the Endarkened,” she said and after a pause, she added: “His _parabatai_ is one.”

Mélodie looked at the Silent Brother’s closed eyes. It was strange, Edward thought, how normal he looked. Silent Brothers, usually in their parchment coloured robes, showed gruesome faces. Their investiture rituals, the brothers are mutilated by quietude and other more powerful runes: their eyes and mouths sown shut, their cheeks carved into and their skin as ashen as the dead. Brother Zachariah however, did not look like any other Gregori he had ever seen. He looked like a peaceful twenty-something-year old. His closed eyes and mouth were not mutilated and he looked as alive as Edward himself.

Edward could feel the man’s swift mind skim through his, looking for the information he had probably read in Mélodie’s mind.

 _Very well, follow me, Edward Longford_ parabatai _of Arianne Dragonnoir,_ Brother Zachariah’s voice rung through his head without accent or even a language he could pinpoint other than by the fact that he understood it.

“Is she not coming?” He asked showing Mélodie behind him.

“I do not have more information than what I have already given,” she said. “You alone can be of use from now.”

* * * * * *

Flashes of bloody red and blinding white tore through Edward’s head from the Brother Havilah’s fingertips. Thoughts were ripped from his memory to reach the dead humanity of the man who used to be Ari’s brother. Though Edward’s hope and worry were tightening his chest, he still hoped his hate for Christopher — _pardon_ , _Brother Havilah —_ filtered through, poured through his being and into the Gregori’s mind.

Edward did not scream, he would not let himself ruin his chance to find anything that could help his _parabatai._ This excruciating trituration of his brain by a man he hated, by a man who did not love Ari enough to stay for her, was nothing compared to the fire constantly burning his _parabatai_ rune.

 _The_ parabatai _bond remains indeed and humanity subsists from Edward Longford to Arianne Dragonnoir,_ said Havilah to his fellow brothers and the envoy from the Spiral Labyrinth.

“You mean, she is not changed despite the physical transformation?” Inquired Tessa Gray.

_No. She is truly transformed and belongs to the Endarkened army fully. However, thanks to the bond she shares with a surviving Nephilim, her soul struggles to subsists until the right moment._

Havilah’s fingers let go of Edward completely. The shadowhunter fell limply on the ground, panting and sweating. His voice was hoarse and desperate when he spoke.

“That means we can bring her back. That means she can be saved.”

 _No._ And he hated the pity in Brother Zachariah’s voice.

“Surely _you_ can,” said Edward struggling to his feet.

Gray blinked at him with surprise veiled with the knowledgable sheen most immortals Edward knew bore. She seemed to weigh her words carefully as she listened to whatever account Havilah made to her telepathically. Edward hated the defeated slump in her shoulder before she even opened her mouth.

“There are things like soul transference or something, right?” He asked with more desperation than hope.

He could feel the _parabatai_ rune burning on his chest, he could feel the bond he shared with Ari being pulled tight. He could feel her pain, her fear, her hope, though the latter was tainted with something he could not recognise, something unlike his own.

“I’m sorry,” she said and he felt as though the ground unravelled beneath his feet.

What did they know? No matter how many minds they dived into, no matter how many books they read on the subject, the Silent Brothers did not have _parabatais_ , the warlock woman even less so. They did not know what that meant, they did not know what he knew, what he felt. She was there. She was there and he could feel her holding on for something. If they did not help him save her then he would do so without them. He would save her.

* * * * * *

He heard the call to arms days later and he still had no plan, no solution. He was going in blind but then again, Ari and him never made plans ever and it always ended up for the best, didn’t it? He would find her, save her or he would die trying.

* * * * *

Metal clashed against metal, determined shouts pushed hearts forward into battle, and he was no exception. Two _Adamas_ blades in his hands, his movements were precise, graceful and accurate. Each attack was anticipated, each opponent spotted, and each blow avoided. Edward felt his blood pump through his veins, his heart pounding in his chest, and his weapons were extensions of his arms. He was a fierce warrior fighting for his life, fighting for his ideals, dangerously slashing his adversaries, cutting them down as they came. Fey and Endarkened alike, they were no match for him in that instant.

He could smell the seething skin, blood and sweat. He could hear screams, blades tearing through flesh and weapons whipping through the air. He could feel the sticky blood of feys on his gear, the dirt that had splashed on his body and the sweat trickling down his temple.

With one swift movement, he impaled a faerie with his seraph blade, and used her body as shield against a passing arrow, before pushing her against another opponent ready to charge at him. The first sword remained embedded into the stomach of his enemy, but he was able to stab the other with the second.

For about a bit over a second, he was left at peace to breathe. No one was attacking him, until he saw _her_. He had not even realised that the bond that had been pulled so tight it physically hurt during their separation, had eased. The only pain left was the scorching, bubbling bleed on his rune. He instinctively reached for it, touching it through the protective fabric of his gear. His _Parabatai_ was standing in front of him, even through that cruel mask he would recognise her.

It was as if time had stopped around them and all he could see was Arianne’s face. Her pretty and amused smile distorted into a cruel one. Her eyes that had once been green like home now looked horribly dark and blood thirsty. Yet, a glint in her eyes, that simple spark allied with the fear he felt — which he knew was not his own — told him, _his_ Ari was still there. She was not like the other Endarkened. All her angelic runes had not disappeared, for she still bore her _Parabatai_ rune, which meant there was still hope.

Just as he had been entranced by her, it seemed she had only eyes for him. His heart stilled, and his ragged breath felt fresh and new, as if he had been dead but he were alive again. In the midst of battle, the two of them were alone. In the midst of chaos, and a cacophony of sounds that would tear one’s mind, their words were spoken and resonated clearly as if they had been standing by the calm waters of the Esplanade.

“Ari,” he called out to her in barely a whisper. For a moment, he saw his childhood friend, the one that had been there for him. The one he had shared a life with. The one that he carried with him, wherever and with whomever he was. The one that was part of him, his other half. Her cruel mask dawned on her traits again.

“I have to say I am disappointed to see you hoping, Eddie,” she said. She gripped her blade tightly. It was Yann’s, her brother’s. She could not completely be unfeeling, otherwise, there was no way she would not have chosen a better blade. This one was not a blade for battle.

“I can still feel you,” he said pointing at the rune above his heart. “I know you’re in there.” Her laugh was a cold tint echoing through the air.

“Wishful thinking, chéri,” she taunted. “The woman you knew is not there and she’s never coming back.” She grabbed another blade and with a single throw cut into his shoulder. He grunted as he withdrew the weapon. She was not that intent on killing him: she never missed. “You’re too slow.” She smirked viciously.

“Please, Ari, listen to me!” He pleaded, despair egging at him. “Stay for me, for your sister and your brother! I know you are in there you can fight it!”

“Fight what? I’ve never felt freer in my life,” she said. It was a lie, he knew it was. “There is no getting me back,” she mocked. “You should let me go.”

Before he could answer, she drew a longer sword out and with the aid of her brother’s smaller blade attacked her _Parabatai._ He parred her attack, their blades meeting in a spark. They were still for half a second.

“ _Entreat me not to leave thee. Or return from following after thee.”_ He pushed her back.

“Is that why you are in the middle of this battle field, out of loyalty?” She sneered, before lunging forward in an attempt to strike him. Tears started to gather at his eyes, his throat to tighten.

“ _For whither thou goest, I will go, and where thou lodgest I will lodge,”_ he continued reciting his vows and pushing her back. She kept attacking and attacking.

“To save me?”

Was there really no getting her back? With each blow, his wound in his shoulder hurt him, and she was relentlessly attacking him. He could not hold much longer. He grunted in pain.

“There is no saving me!” She shouted cutting through his defences as he was too slow to react and she knocked out his only weapon out of his hand.

His cheeks were flooded with tears. He had to protect her from herself. He had to save her from the creature that kept her hostage.

“ _Thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God._ ” He attacked some with his fists, but did not deal any blow that might truly hurt. As she attacked with her brother’s knife, he grabbed her wrist and was able to take it away from her. _He did not have a choice._

“You’ve go to let me go,” she repeated in a whisper and he heard _her;_ the real her.

He had to free her. She lunged again and yelled out in her attack. Raising her sword up in the air, her left side was open to him. He buried her brother’s blade in it, dealing her a fatal blow. 

Everything stood still, all sounds of battle fading into the background as her mouth opened failing to breath properly, and her eyebrows furrowed in pain. A small whimper escaped her lips. Her legs buckled under her, but he held her close, and laid her down gently, kneeling on the ground and bringing her onto his lap, leaning her head against his chest, cradling her in his arms. He was holding her body close to him, unable to control the amount of tears that streamed down his cheeks, the sobs that shook his chest as she looked at him.

“Where thou diest,” he was interrupted by his own sobs, and in that moment in her eyes, he saw her. In her last moment, he could see his Ari, her green eyes truly her own — home.

“Eddie,” she whispered. The word sounded like a question, but he felt her certainty as his rune solidified into a dark line again. Relief from the scorch washing over him, like a wave. He held her close, as he heard her last breath escape her lips. He had killed his _Parabatai_. He felt as though he had died as he clutched to her body, rocking it as though she was sleeping, sobbing furiously under the waves of sorrow and guilt and immense sadness he was feeling. He closed her eyes. Their runes started to fade into a white mark, a scar of the pain that loss had caused.

“ _Where thou diest_ ,” he repeated. “ _Will I die_ …” Because without her he was dead. His eyes scanned over her body and found her brother’s blade still imbedded in her. He pulled it out and made the only decision he knew made sense. “ _And there shall I be buried_ ,” he said as he slit his wrists. His blood started to mingle with hers as it run down his wrists and on her body and onto the earth. He laid her down gently and let himself lie beside her.

“ _The Angel do so to me, and more also, if aught but death part thee and me._ ” And for a moment, as his strength evaded him, before his eyes would close he looked at her face, at the way the sun hit her cheeks. Despite the war raging on beside them, he felt at peace. He could almost hear the chant of the rooster from the farm near the institute. She looked like she always did when he woke up next to her: Gentle, soft and asleep. And so he closed his eyes and let himself fade away in a dream.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!! 
> 
> I hope you guys liked it, do not hesitate to leave a comment and tell me what you think. I have to admit I wrote that a very long while ago and only decided to post it now. I have skimmed through it and not re-read it besides a key scene or two, so there will definitely be some errors here and there, especially considering I am not a native english speaker. Same thing, if you see mistakes, don't hesitate to let me know!


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